Dropping Off and Picking Up
by the ramblin rose
Summary: Caraham AU. Oneshot. Carol's new to town and just trying to get her daughter off to school. She never imagines a crowded elementary school might be the perfect place to meet someone. Carol/Abraham


**AN: This was written for Hanna. It's the Tumblr prompt for Caraham (Carol/Abraham) meeting while dropping their kids off for school.**

 **I've never done this pair before and I'm still feeling out Abraham's character, especially outside of the ZA, but I hope that you enjoy!**

 **Let me know what you think!**

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Carol wondered if she was the only parent, herded into the cafeteria with their offspring and crammed in there with barely standing room, who felt like a sheep. It was the first day of school and, outside, all the "long-term" parents were dropping their kids off with ease. They rolled up to the line for drop offs, their children slipped out of their car—or came on the bus if the parent had to work—and they bid them good day as the door was slamming closed behind the little ones. But the new parents of new students? They were being herded.

According to the requests that had been made, she'd come early. She'd come earlier, even, than the "early" time that she'd been given to arrive. The paperwork was quick—just a signature here and a drop that off there—after what she'd already done to register Sophia, but now it was starting to seem quite evident that Foxbrook Elementary didn't have the best organizational skills ever.

Carol was trying to keep her temper, though, and remain patient. Sophia, her daughter, had already been shuffled to a new school, each year, for the past three years. With any luck? This would be where she would stay, and it would be where she'd get to really make something of a life. Carol didn't want to start that off by cementing her legacy there as the mother who lost her temper and informed the school employees that they absolutely sucked at doing their job.

She was on edge. She was going to blame the whole thing on being on edge.

She was new to the town, as was her daughter of course, and everything that she had to do to get them both ready "to go" had been done in less than two weeks. She was exhausted. That's what it boiled down to. She was exhausted and now she was hot, tired of standing on her feet with people she didn't know randomly bumping into her, and she was ready to get Sophia off to start a new school year so that she could take care of a few errands that simply had to be done so that she could be ready to start work bright and early the next day.

They called names, one right after the other, but the small cafeteria was so crowded that the parents couldn't make their way to the "posters" that were being held up for the kids to go to when they'd been sorted into classes. Instead, when their name was called and a class was given, the children were making the trip—practically under the crowd—toward the posters and the parents were left basically turning circles while they tried to figure out how to escape the tight space.

Carol could barely breathe.

She had to focus on it. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. There was more than enough oxygen in the space for everyone that was there. There was more than enough air for everyone. Besides that, somewhere to the sides the doors were opening and closing. People were coming in and out. Each that left the space left a little more room and they left a little more oxygen. Each time the door opened, more air came in. There was plenty of air. No one was going to suffocate. Carol wasn't going to suffocate.

All she really had to worry about—even though her brain kept nagging her about the fact that it was sure she couldn't breathe so that she had to keep proving it wrong—was listening for Sophia's name to be called and keeping a smile on her face so that she didn't give away her feelings on the way things were being run.

As they slipped farther down the list, growing ever closer to the last name that Carol wished her daughter wasn't stuck with, Carol shuffled around enough to lean down and lean close to Sophia's face. She brushed Sophia's hair back with her fingers, readjusted her backpack straps, and smiled at her.

"You're going to be fine, OK?" Carol said.

Sophia looked afraid, but that was nothing unusual. She disliked most things that required her to be away from Carol for even a fraction of a moment.

"You'll have fun," Carol assured her. "You'll—have a great time and you'll make some new friends and—before you know it? I'll be here to pick you up and you can tell me all about it."

"What if I don't like my teacher?" Sophia asked.

Carol checked her smile.

"You'll love your teacher," Carol said. "And your teacher will love you. You just be Sophia. Everything else? It'll take care of itself."

"You'll be here as soon as we can leave?" Sophia asked.

"Earlier," Carol assured her. "But—don't worry about that, right? Because you know I'll be here. And then we'll figure out about your bus?"

Sophia shook her head. That was a fight for another time. Not for when Carol was sending Sophia off to class.

"Don't worry about it," Carol said. "Just go and have fun? It'll be great, sweetheart."

Sophia didn't seem one hundred percent sure of this plan, but then she seldom did on the first day of school. Carol kissed Sophia's forehead—since she was still of the age where having her mother kiss her wasn't akin to being dipped in acid—and she put her hand on her shoulder until she heard Sophia's name called. When it was called, Carol repeated the teacher's name to Sophia, wished her good luck, and sent her scurrying under the bunched up crowd and toward the posters.

That was all she had to do. She was only supposed to make her way to the office and report a problem if her daughter's name wasn't called—which meant that, despite all she'd done, something had gone wrong with her registration—so Carol was free to go and get on with her day.

Except she had no idea how to get out and she felt like, as she tried to make her way toward the very doors that she'd entered through, she couldn't make any promise. Every person—sheep before—suddenly seemed like a still brick wall. She called out a number of "excuse me" requests that fell on deaf ears. When that didn't work, she resorted to trying to push her way through. She was pretty sure that some of the parents there, either by accident or simply because they hated that she had her freedom, were pushing her back.

It felt like an eternity before she finally reached the glass door, pressed the bar, and burst through it. She sucked in air, gulped it almost, as she emerged into the sunshine. It felt more like coming up from air after nearly drowning than simply escaping a building.

"Mother dick!" She heard someone else mutter, their voice too loud for the Elementary school but not really loud enough that anyone at too great of a distance could've heard them.

Carol laughed to herself. She couldn't help it.

The person who had said it was a man. He had escaped from the doors a few feet from the ones that she'd chosen. He was one of the few men that she'd even seen there since that morning.

He looked at her when he heard her laughing and then he laughed too.

"Sorry," he muttered. "But you can't tell me that they don't have somebody in that building that can do a better job of that shit than those."

He was walking in the same direction that Carol was going now. It didn't seem strange to Carol, though, because they had to get to the parking lot and the walkway they were going down was the only direct route there.

"It's crazy in there," Carol admitted.

"You alright?" He asked.

Carol glanced at him. His face was drawn up in some concern.

"I'm fine," she said. She touched her face, absentmindedly, but she knew that she was fine. She still had the habit, though, of touching her face when someone asked that because, for many years, the question had come as a response to some mark or another that Ed had left on her.

But Ed was gone now. And it had been a long time since she'd worn evidence of his anger. This man wasn't asking her about bruises, cuts, or a busted lip.

"Why?" Carol prompted.

"You're—well, you're breathing heavy," the man said. "I just didn't know if you were alright."

Carol glanced back toward the building and then she looked at him.

"I'm a little claustrophobic," she admitted.

A barely there smile came across his lips.

"This place'll do it for you," he said. "Supposed to be a place to send my kids to get educated, but damn if I don't believe A.J. can already plan better than that."

Carol laughed to herself.

"A.J. is your...?" Carol asked.

"Son," Abraham said. "He's nine."

Carol's smile broadened.

"Sophia's my daughter," she said. "She's nine too. Maybe they'll be in the same class?"

The man smiled and nodded.

Carol couldn't help but admire him. He was obviously strong. Everywhere she looked, she felt like all she could see was muscle. He looked like, if she'd run into him in the cafeteria, she might have believed he was a brick wall for reasons other than his inability to move and let her pass.

But there was something else about him too. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on. It was something that made her comfortable with him, despite the fact that his slightly coarse speech and muscles might have normally made her uncomfortable.

"Maybe," he said. "Ford. Abraham Ford."

"Carol Peletier," Carol said. "Soon to be Carol McAlister, actually. I'm going to see about changing that now."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Just got married?" He asked.

Carol shook her head. She stopped her steps when he stopped. It took her a moment to realize that she'd stopped by his car, but she didn't apologize—even if she did feel herself blush at the fact.

"Just got un-married," she said. "Well—I've been separated for a while, but everything is finally squared away and official."

Abraham hummed.

"Bad damn hand," he said. "Been divorced two years now, myself. You get used to it."

"It's something I'm looking forward to getting used to," Carol said.

Abraham looked amused.

"You have your kids?" Carol asked. "Instead of your wife?"

"She's working today," Abraham said. "I'm not. We're divorced, but it's a friendly divorce. Especially when it comes to the kids."

Carol smiled.

"That's good," she said. "That's—great, really."

"Your husband?" Abraham asked.

Carol shook her head.

"I've moved three times," she admitted. "Just trying to get away from him."

Abraham sucked his teeth. He was standing there, stiffly, but he was clearly not going to move to leave until Carol did.

"Maybe this one'll stick," Abraham said. "I used to live on the other side of town. Foxbrook is a mess, but Willingston Elementary was a shit storm too. Organization aside, though? They're good institutions."

Carol smiled and nodded.

"I think it'll be fine for Sophia," she said. "And—I hope the town does work out. I'm looking forward to it."

She swallowed, wondered if she was really feeling as brave as she thought she was for a second, and bit the bullet.

"I'm—looking forward to getting to know some new people," she said. "Maybe—I'll see you around?"

Abraham looked almost taken offguard for a moment, but he recovered quickly and smiled sincerely.

"I'd like that," he said. "If—you don't know your way around? I could show you where the courthouse is to see about that name change?"

Carol widened her eyes and nodded.

"I'd appreciate that, actually," she said.

Abraham nodded at her and his smile widened a little more.

"There's a little diner that's a must-try just by there," he said. "While we're in the area, I'll buy you the obligatory welcome to East Bumblefuck cup of coffee. Maybe lunch if you want?"

Carol felt flattered, but she quickly nodded.

"If it's obligatory," she said, "then it sounds like an offer I just can't refuse."

Of course—she didn't _want_ to refuse it either.


End file.
